


Becoming Real

by sissy_bloke



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Trans Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-06
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sissy_bloke/pseuds/sissy_bloke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A case involving transgender youth brings some things to the surface for Prentiss. This transition then brings some things to the surface for JJ.</p><p>Spoilers: None. And I ignore the bits of canon I don't like.<br/>Warnings: Contains transphobia and transphobic violence, but NOT expressed by the good guys.<br/>Also contains other violence, but less than what you'd see on the show</p>
            </blockquote>





	Becoming Real

**Part 1.**

 

“We’ve got a case,” JJ said, walking into the meeting room and waiting for everyone to file in.

“The Police Department in Ashville, Wisconsin, found the bodies of what they thought were two teenage boys, but on further investigation, it appears that both were undergoing hormone treatment and were living as female. Last night, another body, apparently female, was found, victim of the same MO, and is as yet unidentified.”

“A hate crime?” Reid queried, looking up from the case file.

“The police aren’t sure. None of the victims showed signs of violence and the ME isn’t sure of cause of death yet, as initial toxicology results came back clean. The police were unable to find any forensic evidence at the scene that might identify the unsub.”

“What’s the timeline?” asked Hotch.

“The first victim, birth name Robert Harris, chosen name Kelly, was 17, and was found a week ago. The second victim, Charles, or Megan, Rosswell, 15, was found on Thursday. The police called us in when the third victim was found. The first two victims were found wearing male clothing, and were laid out on a church doorstep, Kelly in West Ashville, Megan in the northern suburb of Brookhaven.”

As she spoke, she put up pictures of the victims and the crime scenes. The first set mostly showed a dark-haired, olive-skinned young man, short for his 17 years, with long black hair covering much of a face marked by a surly frown. Amidst those photos was a single picture, of the same teen but now dressed in a skirt and blouse, the hair no longer covering her face, wearing a smile that the surly youth didn’t look capable of.

The second set were such a contrast to the first: most of the photos were of a short, slightly chubby blonde girl looking no different to any 15 year old girl. In some the girl’s parents appeared, looking uncomfortable. It was the crime scene photos that were out of place: they showed the same teen, long blonde hair trimmed inexpertly short, in an ill-fitting suit, face cleaned of make-up allowing the sickly pallor of death to show.

JJ’s heart broke a little at the pictures they painted.

“Are we sure they’re homicide? I mean, the suicide rate for gay young people is over four times that of straight youth. I’d imagine it’s at least as bad for transgender youth.” Morgan asked reasonably.

“Six. Six times as high.” Prentiss said quietly.

“I know,” said JJ, sparing Emily a thoughtful glance, “but these bodies appear to have been dragged to the church doorsteps, and it looks like the clothes were put on post mortem.”

“What about the third victim?” Hotch asked.

“She was found in the same position as the others, outside a church in the western suburb of Greenvale, wearing a dress, high heels and make-up.”

“And this was a woman?” Morgan clarified.

“The body appears to be physically that of a woman in her teens, but given the first two victims, the police suspect that this victim may also be transgender.”

“Fine. Tell us the rest on the plane. Good work, JJ.”

They spent the plane trip reviewing the files. JJ took her usual seat next to Emily and looked over her notes. The victims were so young and had probably already faced so much prejudice because of their choice to live as they were. JJ’s anger, usually directed solely at the perpetrator of each crime, seemed this time to overflow onto the society which had made these kids’ lives so hard and which had produced the crimes which had ended them.

She remembered the prejudice that her college friend Helen had had to endure. JJ acknowledged that she herself had said some things which had hurt the other woman, simply through not understanding. She hadn’t realized, at first, the difference between a drag queen and a transsexual, hadn’t realized that Helen wasn’t putting on an act, that it was the male attire she had renounced which was the act. But as she got to know Helen, she had begun to understand.

She had a particularly vivid memory of sitting in a beer garden, several sheets to the wind, and listening to some of Helen’s horror stories. It was then that she realized she owed the other woman an apology, which she had then repeated the next day, sober. Helen had accepted it with more generosity than JJ thought she’d have been able to muster under the circumstances.

Those horror stories were coming back to her now as she looked at the young faces in her file, and she found herself getting angrier. Suddenly she felt a hand on her leg: Emily had been sitting next to her, unusually silent even for the self-contained profiler, and must have noticed her growing agitation. JJ looked across. Emily didn’t quite manage a smile, but her touch had its usual effect on JJ: her distress started to abate and she felt warmed by her friend’s concern.

Seeing that Emily was also bothered by this case but seemed not to want to talk, she wordlessly covered her friend’s hand with her own, and left it there for the remainder of the flight. As they were getting ready to disembark, she removed her hand with a squeeze, for some reason not wanting the connection they had shared to be seen by anyone else, as if it would spoil the moment.

When they arrived at the police station in Ashville, they were welcomed by the station Captain, a tall rangy man who had surrendered to his thinning hair by buzzing it short. With him was a stocky young man with reddish hair and freckles.  

“Captain Richards. This is Constable Martin, who is in charge of this case. Thank you for coming,” he said, looking ill-at-ease. JJ took in the officer-in-charge: Constable Martin seemed barely out of the academy, his uniform ironed within an inch of its life, and his utility belt loaded with all the paraphernalia that more experienced police officers usually cut down to bare minimum. It spoke volumes about how much priority they had placed on this case.

“Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone,” JJ gave her usual introduction, schooling her expression. “And these are SSAs Prentiss, Rossi, Hotchner, Morgan and Dr Reid.”

“Well, thank you all for coming. I don’t really know what we’ve got here, and I have to tell you, a lot of my people are pretty uncomfortable about this case.”

“Because of the gender identity of the victims?” JJ asked.

“Well, yeah,” he said, as if it were obvious. “But this is the third case in just over a week, so we figured we’d better call you in,”

 _You mean you figured you’d better pass the buck_ , JJ thought cynically. She noticed Prentiss and Morgan share a glance, as if they’d had the same thought.

“Well, I’m glad you called us in,” Hotch replied, before the Captain noticed the glances. “JJ and Reid, you set up here. Reid, start a geographical profile. JJ, set up interviews with the families. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go to the first two sites. Dave and I will take the most recent site and talk with the ME to see if we can get an identification or cause of death. Garcia’s already going through the victims’ online histories, to see if they had anything in common. Meet back here at five to review.”

JJ watched everyone walk out the door, and then turned to Richards. “Right, where can we set up?”

After being shown to an office, JJ sat down heavily. She looked around the small room, the décor the same utilitarian grey of police stations all over the country. She sighed. Contacting families was always the worst part of her job. It never got any easier, but every time she was fortified by the knowledge that this was one burden she could shoulder and spare her team. She picked up the phone.

“Mrs. Harris? This is Jennifer Jareau with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. We’re working on your child’s case.” She winced to herself at the clumsy wording, angry that she couldn’t be sure of how the grieving mother referred to her own daughter, remembering all those pictures of Kelly as a frowning Robert.

“Oh.” She sounded shaky. “The police have already asked me about Robbie. What else do you want to know?” JJ’s question was answered.

“Ma’am, the BAU is a specialist unit. We’ve been brought in to develop a profile of the person who did this. We’d like to ask some more questions that may be different to the types of questions the police asked. We can have someone pick you up.”

“That won’t be necessary, Miss… Jareau?” she waited for JJ’s confirming murmur. “My husband and I will come in this afternoon at four.”

“Thank you Mrs. Harris.” JJ gave her the details and said goodbye.

One down, one to go, JJ thought wearily to herself, before picking up the phone again, hoping that this one would be better.

That afternoon she sat in her borrowed office, listening to Emily and Rossi talk with the couple.

“Robbie was such a sweet boy,” Mrs. Harris was saying. “I was devastated when he got mixed up in all that sick cross-dressing nonsense.”

“Mrs. Harris, we understand that Robbie was undergoing transgender hormone treatment, and was using the name Kelly?” Rossi asked quietly.

“Well, that was just a phase! He would have come to his senses! Bob, tell them!” she turned to her husband.

“Mister, our son was no pervert. He just got caught up in some twisted fad. He met this girl, and she took him along to this ‘tranny club’, where these kids all hung out and dressed in each other’s clothes or some such. I don’t want you dragging my son’s name through the mud over this.”

“Sir, we’re just trying to get a picture of what happened.” Rossi said calmly. “Can you tell me a little bit more about this ‘club’?”

The Harrises told Rossi and Emily what they could, Emily quietly taking down notes about the club.

“We understand Robbie was not living at home?” Rossi asked.

“Well, we couldn’t have that kind of behaviour in our house!” Mr. Harris exploded. “His younger brother could get all sorts of ideas. Of course he couldn’t live at home.”

“Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Robbie?” Rossi finished.

“No, nobody,” Mrs. Harris answered, “but maybe it was better this way. Maybe it’s better that he couldn’t mutilate his body with surgery. He’s still whole in the eyes of God.”

JJ noticed that Emily’s jaw was clenched so tight she could almost hear her teeth grinding. She was fighting to keep her face neutral herself. While her experience with  transgender issues wasn’t great, she knew how her friend Helen would have felt hearing words like that from her parents, and she could imagine how much Kelly would have hurt to hear her parents saying similar things in the past.

 “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Harris, you’ve helped us a great deal.” JJ’s training came to the fore, keeping her face calm and allowing her to be polite as she escorted the couple out.

When she walked back into the office, Rossi was talking. Emily looked sick. JJ couldn’t tell if Rossi didn’t notice, but thought it more likely that he was politely pretending not to.

“I’m going to check out this club. It could be how our unsub is targeting the victims. The Rosswell’s are here. You two take that interview.” He walked out with his case notes, leaving JJ with Emily.

“Here, I got you a drink. You looked like you could use one.”

Emily looked up. “Thanks, I could,” she said, taking the glass. She stared straight ahead.

JJ just sat in silence for a while, as the color returned to Emily’s face.

“I know what it’s like to have parents reject the decisions you make,” Emily started slowly. “If I -” she broke off. “Look, let’s get to the interview.”

JJ didn’t push, but she gave Emily a long look as they left the office.

This interview was much less harrowing. The Rosswell’s clearly loved their daughter, tried to support her, and generally referred to her as Megan and ‘she’, though they occasionally slipped up. JJ could see Emily relaxing. But they didn’t have any new information. Megan had never gone to any kind of club, and they didn’t know who she had talked to.

After they escorted the Rosswells out, they realized that it was a little after five, and they were late for the meeting.

As they walked into the conference room, Rossi was saying “We’ve got an ID on the third victim. Legal name was Stephanie Woodward, but he was going by the name Steve, and living as a male.”

“All victims were in their teens, Kelly Harris was living in a student share house and the other two lived at home, and all were transsexual.” Hotch summarized.

“But it doesn’t read as a straight hate crime. I didn’t get a sense of rage or hate from the scenes at all. I almost got a sense of… love. The bodies were all carefully dressed and laid out peacefully. Their arms were crossed over their chests. The unsub even put a piece of tarpaulin under them to protect them when dragging them to the church doorsteps,” Rossi mused.

“Why not carry them?” Morgan asked. “None of the three were very large. Does this mean we’re looking for a smaller man, or even a woman? Someone physically unable to carry the victims?”

“Maybe,” Hotch confirmed. “The ME managed to isolate the cause of death. Insulin overdose. Poisoning is much more common for female unsubs. We could be looking at a woman.”

“That would fit with the sense of love I got from the scenes. I think these victims represent someone very close to our unsub, probably a child.” Rossi added.

“She has a child who is transgender?” Reid queried.

“I would say so,” Rossi confirmed. “This child probably died recently. She would have been unable to cope with their transsexualism. She put the victims in the clothes appropriate to their birth gender, as a way of denying their transsexual identity in their final moments.”

 _He’s still whole in the eyes of God_. The memory of Mrs. Harris’ words left a bitter taste in JJ’s mouth.

“We have both male and female victims, so we can’t narrow that down, but I’ll have Garcia check into recent deaths of young people who may have been transsexual.”

“Not just recent. This could have been brewing for a while,” cautioned Hotch, as Rossi started dialing Garcia.

As the discussion went on, JJ noticed that Emily hadn’t said a word. She was sitting there looking attentive, but this silence was unusual for the dedicated profiler. She tried to send a reassuring glance, but Emily wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Garcia, start by getting a list of all deaths of people aged 12 to 25 in the last three years, in the western and northern regions of Ashville.” JJ’s attention shifted from Emily in time to catch Rossi’s question.

“Will do, but that’s going to be a long list. Wait… Got it. Seven hundred and fifty eight names.” Garcia replied.

“Narrow it down to suicides, unexplained deaths or poisoning.”

“Right…” Garcia paused, and JJ could hear the sound of typing. “That will narrow it down a lot. Most deaths in that age range are motor vehicle accidents. Okay, we have forty seven names.”

“Organize it by the occupation of the mother.” Morgan added. “The lack of evidence at the scene could indicate someone in law enforcement, or the use of insulin overdose could indicate someone in the medical profession.”

“No problemo, Hot Stuff. This might take a while; I have to cross-check some different databases.”

“Look, when you’ve got that list, I want you to go through it with a fine tooth comb. Look at whether the children were on any online groups that were geared towards transsexuals.” Hotch asked.

“Well, all three of our victims were on online transgender groups, but they weren’t all on the same one. The two girls had one group in common, but the latest victim didn’t share any groups with the first two.” Garcia told them, still typing away.

“Good. Check if any of the people on your list were on any of those groups.”

“Will do, but I’ll have to get back to you. This could take a little while.”

“Excellent, Garcia. Keep us informed,” Hotch signed off. “All right, while we’re waiting for that, I suggest we head to the hotel, get checked in and get some quick dinner. When Garcia comes back with that information, we’ll have a lot of work to do.”

JJ collected her things quickly; she wanted to make sure she shared a car with Emily. She was worried about her friend. Emily was usually so contained, so stoic, but, despite the team’s unwritten rule not to profile each other, she couldn’t help but notice the strain on her friend’s face.

At the hotel restaurant, Emily only picked at her food, and a quick glance around the table told her that the others had noticed it too. When Emily left the table early, JJ excused herself and followed before anybody else in the team could volunteer.

They were silent in the elevator and on the walk down the corridor. When they neared their rooms – JJ had as usual booked them rooms next to each other – JJ asked softly: “Are you okay?”

Emily looked at her, soul-deep weariness in her face, and JJ could tell that she was clearly not okay.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Emily replied, her voice dull.

JJ reached out a hand, entreating “Em…”, and was startled to see Emily wince slightly and turn away.

“Please. I just don’t want to talk about it.” Emily’s hand was on the doorknob, trying to get out of there as fast as possible.

The rejection hurt; she hated when Emily shut her out, but just offered a gentle “Okay, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

The wan smile in response took away some of the sting, but as she went back downstairs, it nagged at her.

The rest of the team looked up enquiringly when she returned. She just gave a tiny shake of her head, her face drawn.

Just then, Hotch’s cell phone rang. “It’s Garcia,” he said, looking up from the display. “She’s got a name.”

Morgan looked at JJ and, at her slight shrug, said “I’ll get Emily.” He hurried upstairs.

In the car with Rossi and Reid, JJ got Garcia on speaker phone.

“Okay peeps, eighteen months ago I’ve got a report of a fourteen year old named Rebecca Graham committing suicide by overdosing on benzodiazepine. There was an investigation into how she got the sedatives, with suspicion the mother had been careless with hospital medications, but no charges were laid. Her mother, Toni Graham, is a nurse at Ashville General.”

Garcia continued: “I managed to track down some Internet activities for Rebecca, and she was a member of several online groups for transgender youth. She had corresponded with all of the three victims, and in her, well, his, online posts, had said he identified as male and wanted to be referred to as John. I’ll send a selection of posts to your mobiles.”

“You think it was actually a suicide?” Reid asked.

“No way to tell, but it does look suspicious. Nothing I could find in his online messages indicated suicidal tendencies.”

“If it wasn’t a suicide, it could have taken the mother this long to deal with the aftermath of her act and start looking into John’s friends. Trying to save them?” Reid speculated.

“Right,” Hotch said, on conference call from the other car. “See if you can look into the mother’s employment records. Let us know if you find anything before we get there.” Hotch signed off.

“Thanks Garcia. Talk to you soon.” JJ hung up.

When they arrived at the address, some uniformed officers from the Ashville PD were already leading a woman out in handcuffs. She looked old beyond her years, and tired, and inexpressibly sad. She looked up at JJ and the rest of the team, and it seemed to JJ that her eyes were searching, even begging for something, but JJ couldn’t tell what.

Hotch instructed the uniforms to take her back to the station and hold her until the BAU team got there after taking a look through the house. He stayed outside with JJ, organizing things with the officer in charge, while the rest of the team went inside.

JJ watched Emily stand outside the door, as if steeling herself to go in, before grabbing the handle and following the rest of the team.

JJ stood making arrangements with the PD, and watching some uniforms secure the house, the police cars’ lights washing the darkness red and blue. She had just finished the conversation when Morgan came out of the house, followed by the rest of the team.

“There’s religious iconography all over the house. There’s practically a shrine in there, set up to her dead kid. No pictures of Rebecca as John. Only photos where the kid’s in ultra-feminine clothes,” Morgan described. “And next to the computer there’s a big list of people the kid corresponded with. Our three vics are highlighted.”

JJ noticed that Morgan kept referring to John as ‘the kid’, uncomfortable with either Rebecca or John.

“Did she leave any of John’s things in his room?” asked JJ, trying to give him back his name. She noticed Emily glancing at her, her expression indecipherable.

“I only saw really feminine things,” Morgan replied.

“She was trying to erase the part she couldn’t deal with,” JJ mused softly.

“Okay, let’s get back to the station and do the interview,” Hotch interjected. “We can finish up here tomorrow.”

They got back into the cars and drove back to the station in silence.

When they got there, Hotch and Morgan picked up some case files and walked into the interview room. JJ stood with the rest of the team in the observation room.

Morgan read Toni Graham her rights, and then began the interview.

“Mrs. Graham, tell us about Rebecca,” he started with an open question.

“Rebecca?” she seemed startled. “Oh, my dear sweet Rebecca. She was such a lovely girl, always did so well at school. She loved her ballet, and her make-up. She was so pretty, she wanted to enter into a beauty contest, did you know that?”

JJ, who had read some of ‘Rebecca’s’ online journal entries, found the blatant over-compensation nauseating.

“That’s not true, though, is it?” Hotch asked gently. “Rebecca didn’t like make-up, did she?” Toni Graham’s face started to show panic. “She didn’t want to enter a beauty pageant, did she? In fact, she’d told you she didn’t like doing ‘girly stuff’ at all.” Hotch used the words he’d read from John’s online posts.

Toni Graham was starting to babble, offering explanations, but the agents didn’t let her finish.

“Your child told you that she was in fact a he, didn’t he?” Hotch pressed on.

“No!” came Graham’s helpless denial.

“He told you he wanted to be called John, didn’t he?”

The woman was crying now, sobbing desperately.

“It’s okay, Toni,” Morgan offered sympathetically, a foil to Hotch’s relentlessness. “I understand you just wanted what was best for her. She was much too young to make that kind of decision, wasn’t she? You were just trying to help her, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I was just trying to help her!” Toni Graham grabbed on to that desperate life-line.

“You just wanted to save her, didn’t you? What she was talking about is a sin. You couldn’t let her live that perverted life.” Morgan sounded completely sincere, and JJ could see that even knowing Morgan was just saying what he had to to get the suspect to talk, Emily’s face was going white.

“Of course I wanted to save her! She was my beautiful daughter! But she just wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t listen...”

“You wanted to save her soul, didn’t you?” Morgan asked gently.

“Yes, yes I did.” Toni Graham fell silent.

“Tell me,” Morgan entreated. “I understand. You did what you had to.”

“Yes. I couldn’t let her go on in a state of sin.”

“Tell me,” Morgan repeated.

“I had to send her to God pure. I sent her to God.”

That was still ambiguous. “How?” Morgan asked.

“I used some tablets from the hospital. I gave them to her. It didn’t take long, and then she was with God.” No ambiguity in that. “Then I put her in her prettiest dress. She looked so beautiful…” she trailed off.

While JJ was watching, a police officer came in to ask some questions about the future handling of the case. JJ answered distractedly, most of her attention on the interview going on on the other side of the window.

“And the others?” Morgan asked.

“I had to save them too.”

“How?” Morgan asked again.

“I used insulin. I didn’t want them to suffer.”

“You mean you didn’t want to be caught?” Hotch took over the questioning.

“I didn’t want them to suffer!”

Emily had been watching silently ‘til then, but now she spoke bitterly. “It almost sounds as if she cares.” She turned away from the observation window.

“I’ve got to...” she broke off, her voice thick, and walked out the door.

The police officer was still asking JJ questions, and she stared after Emily, burning with frustration.

“Look, just... not right now. I’ll get back to you. I have to...” JJ made her somewhat incoherent excuses and bolted out the door.

She couldn’t see Emily in the corridor. She searched the station unsuccessfully, before moving outside, where a sound made her look in the darkness of the alley behind the building.

Emily was leaning her head against the wall, her hands bunched in fists, choking back sobs.

“Hey,” JJ said softly. Emily didn’t reply.

“Emily?” she queried, and was surprised when the other woman burst out: “Don’t _call_ me that!” and punched the wall viciously.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” JJ replied, confused, but starting to get an idea. “What should I call you?” Her only answer was a shrug.

About to suggest ‘Em’ when she remembered the earlier flinch at the name, she asked instead: “Is Prentiss okay?” Another shrug.

“Talk to me, sweetie.” JJ put her hand on Prentiss’ shoulder.

“Dammit, JJ, those kids were killed just for being themselves!” Punctuating the statement with another punch to the wall.

“This wasn’t even a difficult case! We got a name in less than 12 hours, but do you think the cops could care less? You saw how little work they’d done! How little they cared!” Every sentence another punch.

“Hey, sweetie, Prentiss, stop,” JJ begged, trying to catch Prentiss’ hands.

“JJ, they were killed for being brave enough to tell their truth. For being brave enough to say what I’m too cowardly to.” The eyes that turned to her held such a desolate look, and suddenly, JJ understood.

“Oh, sweetie, come here.” JJ enfolded Prentiss in her arms, holding him close as he cried. She whispered “It’s okay, it’s okay,” over and over until he quieted down.

“JJ, I’ve never told anybody,” Prentiss whispered.

“It’s okay. I understand. However you identify, you’re my friend, and you’re an amazing person,” JJ said, stroking dark hair away from a tear stained face.

“I can’t live like this any more, JJ. I’m not a woman. I’m not... _Emily_. I don’t know who I am, but I’m not _her_ ,” he said the last word with distaste.

JJ didn’t really know what to say, what to feel, but this was her friend, so she just kept holding on and repeating “It’s going to be okay.”

The crying had quieted, and JJ remembered Prentiss’ hands. She caught them up gently.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said with sympathy at his raw and bloody knuckles. “We better get those looked at.”

“I’m fine,” he said uncomfortably.

JJ gave him a pointed look. “Flex your hands,” she instructed.

A grimace of pain crossed Prentiss’ face as he tried to comply. “Okay, maybe they hurt,” he admitted ruefully.

“Okay, just hold on a second.” JJ took out her phone. “Rossi? Prentiss and I have to go take care of something... No, it’s fine... Yes... I’m sorry, I don’t know how long we’ll be. I’ll let you know... Yes, we need to take the car. Thanks.” She hung up and turned back to Prentiss. “Okay, let’s go.”

They walked round and picked up a car, and got in silently. JJ started the car, and keyed in a search for the nearest hospital on the GPS. She acknowledged to herself that she was using this as a way to avoid thinking about what Prentiss had just revealed.

They got to the ER and registered with the triage nurse, and then sat down for the wait.

“JJ? Are you okay? With this, I mean?” Prentiss asked nervously.

JJ thought about it, not wanting to give a pat answer, knowing he deserved her complete honesty. “Yeah, yeah I am. I guess I don’t really ‘get’ it. It’s going to take some getting used to and I’m afraid I’m probably going to get things wrong, but you’re my friend and I love you, and whether you’re Emily or Evan makes no difference to me.”

A smile lit Prentiss’ face, along with an odd look JJ couldn’t name. “Thanks,” he said simply.

JJ couldn’t hold her curiosity in anymore: “How do you...?” she wasn’t sure how to finish.

“How do I know?” Prentiss asked. At JJ’s nod he went on: “How do you know you’re a woman?”

JJ looked taken-aback. Prentiss continued: “I just do. This body doesn’t... fit. It’s not like I’m stuck in the wrong body, it’s just that this one has some things that just aren’t... me. I just feel better when nobody’s expecting me to be... womanly”

“I guess I can see that. You never did seem quite at home on girls’ nights with Penelope and me,” JJ said with a grin. Prentiss answered it with one of his own.

“Damn, my hands are starting to hurt. Remind me not to do that again,” he said wryly, changing the subject.

“Let me look at them,” JJ instructed, taking them gently in her own, allowing him the change of subject, not sure she was ready to talk about it herself. “Ouch, they look bad. I think you might have broken something.”

That appraisal turned out to be accurate. When the doctor took some x-rays, she found two broken metacarpals in his right hand. JJ winced right along with Prentiss when the doctor called him ‘Ma’am’.

The doctor prescribed some pain meds and called in a nurse, who splinted Prentiss’ right hand and just cleaned and bandaged the left.

By then, Prentiss was exhausted, emotionally and physically. JJ took charge of him, ushering him into the car, driving back to the hotel, talking when Prentiss wanted to talk, keeping comfortable silence the rest of the time, her hand resting reassuringly on his leg.

Back at the hotel, JJ walked with Prentiss to his room. She stood uncertainly in the doorway. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, you know. I’ll be there for you. Whatever happens, whatever you want to do, I’ll be there for you.”

He looked at her, a sweet smile stealing over his face. “Thank you,” he said. He stepped towards JJ, raising his bandaged hands to her shoulders, and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Thank you.” He closed the door with a smile.

JJ stood staring at the door for a while, an odd feeling creeping over her, then went back downstairs to see if the team had finished up at the station. She found them in the hotel bar, sitting round a table.

“Hi. I’m sorry about cutting out on you,” she said, taking a seat.

“Is Emily okay?” Rossi asked.

JJ found that, even having only found out a few hours ago, the name already sounded strange.

“Yeah,” she said. “She hurt her hands, but she’s okay. She went up to her room.” The ‘she’ was awkward in her mouth, but it wasn’t her story to tell.

“How-?” Morgan started, but JJ stared at him, trying to making it clear that she wasn’t going to answer any questions. He broke off.

“Okay,” Hotch said after an uncomfortable pause. “Everything is pretty much wrapped up at the station. There will be a few things to finish up tomorrow, but then the plane will be leaving at eleven. Let’s get some sleep.”

JJ walked back upstairs, had a quick shower and then lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, hyper-aware of the fact that Prentiss was just a wall away, and unsure how she felt about the evening’s revelations. It took her too long to get to sleep.

The flight home was quiet. Prentiss sat next to JJ. He’d taken his pain meds, which were making him drowsy. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, slumping over to rest on JJ’s shoulder. JJ looked down at him, a wave of tenderness washing through her, and stroked his hair gently, ignoring the occasional odd look from the rest of the team.

When they got back to the BAU, Prentiss went into Hotch’s office. JJ stared at the door. He wasn’t in there for long. He came out and came down the stairs towards JJ, and looked around to make sure nobody else was in earshot.

“I’ve taken leave without pay. I told you, I can’t live like this any more. I’m going to do something about it. But I can’t do it here. Not in front of everybody. I can’t transition and do my job.”

JJ’s stomach lurched. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know. I’ll keep in touch. I wanted to thank you. For last night. It meant a lot. It _means_ a lot, what you said, about sticking by me.”

“Prentiss…?” JJ wasn’t sure what she was asking.

“I’m sorry JJ, I have to.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said, lifting her hand, wanting to stroke Prentiss’ face, but unsure of herself. She settled for touching his shoulder. “I’ll miss you.”

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes warm. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be back, I promise,” he finished, and then he walked out the door, leaving JJ staring after him.

 

 **Part 2.**

 

JJ sat looking at her desk reading her email. Six months, and Prentiss hadn’t visited or called her. She didn’t feel like she could visit him without an invitation; it was his call to make. She felt… she wasn’t sure. Alone, she guessed. It was assuaged by his regular emails, but she missed him. She clicked into her Prentiss folder again, and reread his messages, snippets catching her eye.

 

 _“I told Hotch. He didn’t seem surprised. The advantage, or disadvantage, of working with profilers. He said he’d support me with the FBI administration.”_

 _“I’m seeing a doctor. He’s going to refer me to a gender specialist. I’ve read all about the process, but I’m still not sure what to expect. I wish you could come with me, but I have to do this on my own.”_

 _“I’ve chosen a name. I considered Emil, but it’s just **too** similar. I liked the way you said Evan. So that’s what I’ve chosen. Evan. Evan Prentiss. Thank you.”_

 _“I’ve been thinking of you. I told Morgan. He said he always thought of me like a brother, and he couldn’t wait for me to get back so he could kick my ass at pool. I told him he had about as much chance of that as he would of beating you at darts. We should have a game soon.”_

 _“The specialist started me on testosterone. I haven’t noticed anything much yet, except that I’ve been really hungry and… well, hungry.”_

 _“I told Garcia. She offered to stop setting me up on dates with guys and starting finding girls for me instead. Then she asked if I was gay. I told her no. I definitely like girls. I think she’s compiling a list of possible matches. I may never recover. I miss you.”_

 _“I told Reid. He didn’t say much. Just started telling me about the Comic Convention he’d just been to. I think he may need some time to process, poor boy. Maybe you could talk to him? It’s okay if you don’t want to. Anyway, I miss you a lot.”_

 _“I’ve been on the testosterone a while. Things are definitely starting to happen. Sideburns are starting to grow in. I’m getting a little bit of acne, which is embarrassing. I feel like a teenager again, and we all know that’s not a good look on me. I really want to see you, but I just don’t feel ready.”_

 _“I’ve noticed I’m getting a lot stronger. I’ve been working out a lot, but it seems so much easier to put on muscle now. I guess testosterone is a steroid. My voice sounds ridiculous. I feel like I should be asking ‘do you want fries with that?’ That’s why I haven’t called. I keep picking up the phone, and then getting scared. I miss you.”_

 _“I told Rossi. He didn’t say much, but then he never does. I also told my Mother. It went about like I expected, which is: not well. At least she’s still talking to me. She doesn’t approve of course, and thinks I can’t make my own decisions. Oh well, nothing new. I think of you a lot.”_

 _“I had surgery. For, uh, my chest. I tried to hire a nurse to look after me afterwards, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it. She dragged me home, lambasted me, told me what a mistake I was making, and fed me chicken soup. She’s always been confusing. I really missed you, especially when things hurt, but I couldn’t have asked you to be there for me, after you already did so much.”_

 _“I think I’m ready to come back soon. I can’t wait to see you.”_

JJ sat smiling, hearing Prentiss’ voice in her head as she read.

Just then, Penelope walked in.

“Have you heard? Prentiss is back!” She sounded excited. JJ’s head whipped around. “He’s just clearing something with Hotch. And, oh boy, is he _cute_. He’s going to give my man Morgan a run for his money.” JJ smiled, her eyes turning to Hotch’s office.

Penelope was saying something, but JJ wasn’t taking it in, her gaze fixed on Hotch’s door.

A moment later, Prentiss - Evan, she corrected herself, walked out.

JJ felt like all the air left the room at once. He was... the same, but not.

The same dark hair, but now cut short, flopping a little into his dark brown eyes.

The same black cargo pants, the same army boots, but accompanied now by a man’s white t-shirt, smooth over a chest newly flat and shoulders subtly broader.

The same elegance, the same power, but a new confidence, unsure perhaps of his reception, but sure for the first time in his skin.

And, God, it was sexy. JJ could feel her face getting hot.

She suddenly remembered to breathe, and realized that Penelope was still talking.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked awkwardly.

Penelope burst out laughing. “I see you agree with me.”

“Huh?” JJ asked inelegantly.

“About how good Prentiss looks.”

JJ blushed impossibly hotter.

“I -” she started to deny, but Penelope cut her off.

“Don’t worry, I understand. You could do a lot worse. Should I stop trying to find girls to set him up with, then?” Penelope winked and then left, before JJ could formulate a reply.

JJ quickly turned her eyes back to Evan, to find he was looking straight at her. She blushed again. _This is getting embarrassing_ , she thought. He was coming towards her, up the stairs to her office.

JJ stood up to meet him. “Hi,” she managed.

“Hi,” Evan replied, no more eloquent.

 _I can’t just say ‘hi’ again. I’ve known Prentiss for five years. Why can’t I think of a thing to say?_

“I’ve missed you,” she got out.

“Me too. Missed you, I mean.” He seemed as tongue-tied as she was.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” JJ exclaimed with a laugh. “C’mere.” She pulled Evan into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her tentatively, before relaxing in her hold.

They stood their silently for a while, until the silence became a little awkward, before JJ pulled back, her face red, _again_.

She looked up to see Evan’s face was red too. They looked at each other for a second until they couldn’t take it and they both cracked up, the laughter a welcome release from tension.

“Seriously, JJ, it’s great to see you. I am sorry that I didn’t call or visit, but I just needed to… you know.”

“Hey, it’s fine. You emailed a lot. I loved getting those messages from you. It’s great to see you back, Evan,” she replied, tasting the name for the first time. He smiled brilliantly.

“Hey, Hotch told me that we don’t have a case at the moment, so I should just come and get some files from you.”

“Sure. Let me get see what there is.” JJ went through the large stack of folders on her desk. “Here are some that only need to be reviewed, and a profile sent on to the local PD.”

“Thanks.” The way he smiled at her told her he wasn’t talking about the files.

“Well, I’d better get to work,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he added, with a quick touch on her arm.

Throughout the day, JJ found herself unable to concentrate. She kept looking out across the bullpen, watching Evan as he worked. His head was down, his hair flopping into his eyes, all his focus on his work. She kept wishing he were a little less single-minded, so he would look up and smile at her.

Suddenly, she realized what she was doing. _Oh, no, JJ, this is not good_ , she thought with a touch of panic. She tried to look at Evan and see Emily, and found that she couldn’t. _It’s Emily_. _Emily, Emily, Emily_ , she said to herself, trying to remember the first time they had met. She discovered with alarm that Evan had even invaded that memory.

She took out her phone, flipping through the photo album for pictures of Emily, but when she saw them, they looked strange; the long hair, the make-up and the curves looking out of place and faintly ridiculous.

She looked over at Evan again, this time to find him looking at her. He smiled, and the traitorous fluttering in her stomach terrified her. She tore her eyes away with a frown, missing the hurt look that crossed his face.

She moved her chair so she couldn’t see him without turning right around, and cursed the glass door on her office. She tore into the pile of folders, burying herself in case notes and police reports. Anything to avoid thinking of silky black hair flopping into smiling brown eyes.

She immersed herself so successfully that she was a little startled when Morgan appeared in the doorway and knocked on the glass. She looked up with a jump and realized that it was late afternoon - she’d been working solidly for hours.

“Hey, we’re heading out for a drink, to welcome Prentiss back. You coming?” Morgan asked.

Her thoughts spun, and she contemplated saying no, but convinced herself that she was being silly. It was just the shock of seeing Prentiss looking so different. She would go out, have a few drinks, and this would go away. She was still telling herself that when he appeared behind Morgan with a grin.

 _This will go away_... “Sure,” she said awkwardly. “Let me finish up here.”

By the time she had wrapped up her notes on the file she was reviewing, Morgan had rounded up everyone else. Even Hotch was coming for a drink before heading home to Jack. She felt like she couldn’t hide in her office any longer.

JJ managed to avoid Evan on the way to the bar, but when they got there, she found that with a round table, it was impossible to find a seat that wasn’t either next to him or across from him. She settled for a seat two away from him where she would have to turn sideways to see him properly.

She noticed that she wasn’t the only one looking awkward. Reid was sitting stiffly, and Hotch and Rossi both looked out of place. Prentiss was reacting to everyone else’s unease around him and was looking uncomfortable. Only Morgan and Garcia seemed relaxed.

“Uh, how was your time off?” Hotch made a stilted start at conversation.

Evan looked at him a little oddly. “Well, it was pretty intense, I guess. I had to deal with a lot of things I’ve been avoiding all my life.” It looked like he had decided to acknowledge the giant elephant in the room. “I’ve always known I didn’t really fit in as a woman, though I kept trying to. I’ve always been really uncomfortable with my body, ever since I can remember, but I didn’t really identify the reason until a few years ago, when I realized that I feel like a man inside. I kept trying to deny it, but that case in Ashville brought a lot of things to the surface for me, as I imagine you guessed.”

Nobody looked any more comfortable.

“But you like guys. I’ve seen you on dates,” Reid objected, looking confused.

“I went on dates with guys because that’s what I was ‘supposed’ to do. I actually like women.” JJ thought she saw his head start to turn fractionally in her direction, but told herself it was her imagination.

“So, you’re a lesbian?” Reid looked even more confused.

“No, I’m straight. I’m a man who likes woman,” Evan explained patiently. “But there are trans guys who like guys, and that doesn’t make them any less men.”

“Wait, so there are straight girls that become gay guys?” Morgan asked. “What’s the point? Why would they bother, if they can get guys already?”

“Who you’re attracted to isn’t the same as how you feel inside, Derek. You’d probably feel pretty uncomfortable if the girls you dated treated _you_ like a woman.” Evan smirked.

“But that’s different,” Morgan objected. He thought about it. “No, wait, I guess it’s not.” He downed the rest of his beer. “This is all way too serious,” he declared, turning to Prentiss. “Bro, it’s time for me to give you a lesson in pool.”

“In your dreams, Morgan,” Evan said with a smile, and they left the table, good-naturedly punching each other in the arm.

“Well, it makes sense to me,” Garcia stated when they were out of earshot. “It suits him. He seems happier. And _I_ think he’s delicious,” she added with a wink. She seemed about to say something to JJ, until JJ’s glare warned her off.

Hotch and Rossi just looked uncomfortable, and Reid started stuttering, a blush rising on his face.

“And yes, you’re delicious too, sweetie,” she told Reid jokingly, which only made him blush more. Everyone laughed at his discomfiture, and the awkwardness eased.

Hotch and Rossi left after one drink, and Reid followed soon after, muttering something about a Star-Trek marathon. JJ made a motion to leave, but Penelope looked up at her with her best puppy-dog eyes: “Jayj… Don’t leave me by myself,” and JJ relented with a grin.

“All right. I think it’s your round, then,” she added.

“Certainly, ma cherie. You wait right there, and I will return with something fabulous,” Garcia left with a sunny smile.

JJ was left alone at the table. She leant back comfortably in her seat and looked around. Morgan was at the bar getting a round of drinks as Garcia joined him. Evan was racking up the pool balls. He was chatting to a group of young women who were sat on stools at a ledge around the pool tables. He gestured towards the table, as if suggesting they join him in a game. They laughed and shook their heads.

Morgan made his way back to the table holding two beers. Evan took one with a grin, clinked it against Morgan’s, and then leant back against the wall near the young women, gesturing that Morgan should break and looking insufferably cocky.

Morgan took his shot and when nothing was sunk, turned away from the table with a dramatic sigh. Evan picked up the cue and took his place. He leaned over with exaggerated care and took his aim, and JJ could swear that some of the women were checking out the view.

“What are you frowning at, honey?” Garcia asked as she returned to the table with their drinks.

“Hmm?” JJ murmured distractedly, and Penelope turned to follow her gaze.

“Oh, I _see_ ,” she said, favoring JJ with a long look, which JJ completely failed to notice.

“He’s totally flirting with them!” she exclaimed. “They must be, what, half his age? And now that girl’s giving him her number! She’s only just met him!”

“I know, go Prentiss!” Garcia cheered, deliberately ignoring the touch of outrage in JJ’s tirade. “I told you, he’s _cute_. I never thought I’d say this, but he’s getting more attention than my baby boy.”

JJ finally looked at Penelope. “Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked.

“Not a bit, sweetie. The real question is: why does it bother _you_?” Penelope queried pointedly.

“What if he calls her? She doesn’t know anything about him. She doesn’t know he’s…” JJ broke off, lost for words.

“Doesn’t know he’s transgender? So what? They’re both adults, and if he calls her then it’s his business what to tell her. I repeat: why does it bother _you_?”

JJ said nothing, her face going bright red. Penelope smirked at her.

“What? No!” JJ denied. “No, I don’t… I’m not…” She was getting more and more flustered. Penelope’s smirk grew wider.

“I’m not a lesbian.” JJ said softly, her confusion evident.

“Oh sweetie,” Garcia stopped smirking. “Sweetie, neither is he,” she said softly. “He’s a man. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He has for years. I never said anything, because, you know, he was a she, and I knew you didn’t swing that way. But he’s a man, and he looks at you the way a man looks at a woman.”

“Oh,” JJ said in a small voice, overwhelmed. “I’ve got to go. Say goodbye to Morgan and, and – Evan.” Her voice cracked a little on the last word.

“Hey, come here,” Penelope pulled her into a hug. “I know it’s confusing, but you don’t have to work anything out overnight. Take care of yourself, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

JJ left quickly, avoiding looking around, so she didn’t see Prentiss following her with his eyes, and she didn’t see him leave the bar soon after, discreetly throwing the woman’s phone number in the bin on his way out.

The next day JJ arrived at work after a restless night, having convinced herself that nothing was going on, that it was just the novelty of seeing a close friend so radically changed. She started work and managed an hour without a single thought of Prentiss entering her mind. She didn’t even feel anything when he came in, late, until she noticed the look of cold anger on his face as he went to his desk in the bullpen.

JJ fought with herself about whether to go to him, and when she got up to walk over, she couldn’t decide whether she had won the fight or lost. She caught what he was saying to Morgan:

“I’ve had to see a psychiatrist as part of my transition. Strauss has decided that that’s grounds to ‘reevaluate my psychological fitness,” he was saying bitterly. “I’m off active duty until I see a bureau shrink and pass a review board.”

“That’s bullshit!” Morgan exploded. “That’s blatant homophobia! No, wait…” he stumbled, looking for the word.

“Transphobia,” Evan supplied.

“Transphobia,” Morgan repeated. “Plenty of people have seen psychiatrists and not had their fitness for duty questioned. This is bullshit,” he said again.

“Thanks,” Evan smiled at him, looking a little better.

JJ felt a little helpless. “Is there anything you can do?” she questioned.

“I’m just going to jump through their hoops.” Evan responded. “I know I’m fit for duty, and if they decide otherwise, I’m going to demand an independent review and make a case under anti-discrimination legislation. I’m just not looking forward to desk duty for the next who-knows-how-long,” he added with a wry smile.

A minute or so later, Hotch came in looking even more serious than usual. “We’ve got a case. Strauss has assigned us directly. Meeting room now.”

Everyone looked up at that, instantly sobering to match Hotch’s mood, and filed into the meeting room.

Hotch started: “Indiana has got a serial killer who is targeting female law enforcement officers. Over the past month, there have been three state police murdered and two FBI agents from the Indianapolis branch, including one woman who was working on the previous cases.” He put up a display as he spoke.

Everyone was silent at the gravity of the situation, taking in the photos of crime scenes and victims.

Hotch went on: “They’ve also been linked to victims in Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee.” More pictures went up.

“So far twenty cases, all law enforcement officers, have been linked, but the first identified case shows a level of maturity that means that there are probably more, and he’s probably progressed from civilians which will not have been picked up during initial searches which only matched victims from law enforcement.”

More and more photos came up on the screen and one thing was becoming sickeningly apparent to JJ. Hotch continued: “All the victims have been female law-enforcement officers, in their late twenties or early thirties, blonde haired, blue eyed, slim and attractive.” He paused, and for a long, uncomfortable moment, JJ could feel everyone staring at her wordlessly.

“JJ, you can’t come with us,” Morgan broke the silence and then a hubbub erupted.

“That’s ridiculous!” JJ protested, her voice slightly shrill. “I’m trained to protect myself.”

“So were all of the women he’s taken!” Reid countered, almost shouting. “One of them was even on his case, so she knew what to look out for!”

“Look at those crime scene photos, JJ: look at what he does to them!” Morgan tried.

“I’m armed! I’ll be surrounded by police and FBI agents!”

“So was that last woman!” Reid argued.

“Prentiss, help us out here. Tell her she can’t go,” Morgan turned for help to Evan, who had been silent until then. Everyone stared at him.

“Don’t look at me, guys,” he said, to Morgan’s evident shock. “You think I want her to be in danger? You think I don’t want to protect her?” he asked wretchedly. “But I’m not about to pull some macho bullshit and tell her she can’t do her job.” He couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. JJ could tell how much it cost him to put his respect for her ahead of his protective side, and she loved him for it.

“JJ, I’m afraid it’s not up to you,” Hotch said gently. “Strauss has already told me to keep you here.”

She couldn’t help the guilty shiver of relief that went through her. Reid and Morgan were saying something about this being the first sensible thing Strauss had ever done, but she ignored them, turning instead to look at Evan, who had a similar look of guilty relief in his own eyes.

“Okay, wheels up in thirty,” Hotch instructed. Everyone filed out to begin their preparations, and JJ and Evan sat around in angry helplessness, watching everybody else get ready.

Garcia seemed to sense their frustration, as she herded them into her office saying “Come along, my cherubs. The search they did for linked cases was hopelessly restrictive. Come and tell me what to search for.” JJ and Prentiss followed her gratefully, glad to be useful, and doubly glad to be spared watching the others get ready without them.

By the time the rest of the team had departed, Garcia had found a long list of possible matches, and Prentiss went to his desk to review them to see if he could tie any to the current case.

JJ stayed with Garcia a little while longer. In a quick break while her computer was processing a search, Penelope asked quietly; “Did you figure anything out last night?”

JJ was grateful that Garcia wasn’t looking at her. “He’s just a friend,” she said firmly.

“As long as you’re sure, sweetie. He’s gorgeous, he’s sweet, he’s funny. He speaks at least five languages, including freaking _Latin_. He’s nearly as smart as Reid and nearly as strong as Morgan. Transgender or not, some lucky lady is going to snap him up soon. So it’s a good thing that you only like him as a friend,” Penelope said cheekily.

“Pen?” JJ said dryly. “ _Really_ not helping.”

“Anything for you, sweet pea.”

“And with that,” JJ said, “I’m going to leave you to it, and go swear at you privately in my office.” Garcia waved her out with a laugh.

Over the next few days, both JJ and Prentiss tried to do as much as they could to work on the case, but there was a limit to how much they could do away from the scenes and without interaction with the rest of the team. So they spent a lot of time working on other case reports, JJ liaising with different police departments, Prentiss writing up profiles from the reports for the police departments to follow up.

JJ was determined to think of Evan strictly as a friend and was largely managing, ignoring Penelope’s gentle teasing and the occasional vivid image that flashed into her head when she looked at him.

Evan was obliging her by being unfailingly _nice_. Once Penelope had pointed it out, JJ couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at her, and she cursed her friend for making her see it. Still, he didn’t do anything about it, and his behaviour towards her was the same as it had always been: friendly, pleasant and _nice_. It was driving her crazy.

Prentiss was attending his mandated visits to the bureau psychiatrist, from which he always returned fuming. JJ took him out for lunch after one such visit.

“God, the guy is such a, a, transphobic, closed-minded, pig-headed, pea-brained, donkey-loving asshole!” Having run out of insults in English, he switched to French, which he soon exhausted, then ran through Spanish, Italian and Arabic, finishing up in Latin for good measure. By the time he’d wound down, JJ was hysterical with laughter.

“Irrumator, stercorem pro cerebro habes, caput stercoris,” Evan finally finished and took a deep breath. He stared at JJ, who had her head down on the table, howling with mirth.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped, trying to get herself under control. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yes, actually,” he replied with a touch of surprise. By then JJ was merely giggling, and had managed to sit up properly.

“So, why is he a … caput ster-whatsit?”

“Caput stercoris. Shithead,” Evan supplied. “Oh, he keeps calling me ‘Emily’ and ‘she’, and asking why I ‘think I’m a man’. He regularly points out that ‘Gender Identity Disorder is in the Manual of Mental Disorders’,” he said with derisive scare quotes.

“What!?” JJ was outraged. She was hardly an expert on transgender issues, but general decency dictated that you referred to someone with the name and pronouns they preferred. “That sounds completely unprofessional. If you want to make a complaint, I’ll support you.”

“Hey thanks,” Evan said, with a brief wide grin. “I’ve filed a formal complaint, but that won’t do much. I’m going to wait and see what happens at this review coming up next week. If they don’t return me to active duty, then I’ll make some real noise.”

“If they don’t return you to active duty, I’m going to tender my resignation,” JJ said, surprising even herself.

“JJ, I can’t let you do that,” Evan protested.

“Try and stop me,” JJ responded with a determined grin, realizing that she _would_ risk her job to do the right thing for her friend.

Evan couldn’t manage a response more intelligent than: “Wow,” but his goofy grin gave JJ a warm feeling, which lasted for the rest of lunch.

“Hey, we’d better get back. Hotch said they was going to call at around two to review the case,” Prentiss said as he put his knife and fork on the plate tidily.

“Yeah,” JJ agreed, though she found that she’d much rather remain talking with Evan.

They walked back to the BAU building and went to Garcia’s office where she had a computer set up to talk to Hotch and the rest of the team.

“Hey guys, right on time. Did you go out for lunch?” Penelope asked. Her smirk was tiny, but JJ still noticed it, and glared back, hoping that Evan had missed it.

“Yeah. JJ was just talking me down from my rage at the psychiatrist,” Evan replied with a grin. “I’m much calmer now, and not likely to commit any acts for which you guys might have to profile me.”

“Well, I’m very glad to hear that. Make yourselves at home, mes amis.” Penelope moved her chair over so they could sit down.

A minute later the computer screen blinked and Morgan’s face appeared. “Hey, baby girl,” he said cheerily.

“Why hello, Angel Face,” Penelope replied flirtatiously. “I have with me Miz JJ Jareau and Mister Evan Prentiss. How are things going out there?”

“Well frankly, we’re not getting anywhere much. Those cases you matched, Prentiss, have provided us with some new leads, but this guy is experienced and mature and hasn’t left any physical evidence for the forensic units to examine, and there hasn’t been another victim.”

“You’ve been there ten days,” Prentiss said with concern, “Prior to that the murders were less than a week apart. It doesn’t make sense for him to be slowing down.”

“We know,” Hotch spoke up. “He could have moved on, but there have been no reports from other states, or he could be leading up to something.” His face was grave.

For the rest of the call they outlined their findings, and Evan shared the work he’d been doing with previous case files. Still, little progress was made, and when the call ended everyone was subdued, unease even breaking through Evan’s normally perfect control. JJ caught him looking worriedly between her and Garcia.

The remainder of the day saw the three of them reviewing the case files with renewed vigor, trying to find something that the rest of the team had missed, but only a few small insights were forthcoming.

They worked late, but eventually JJ decided to call it a night. It was already dark as she drove home, and she found herself humming nervously as she put some leftovers in the microwave to heat up.

When her phone rang, she jumped. Her display read “Prentiss.” That brought a smile to her face as she answered.

“Oh hi, JJ, I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“No, not at all. What’s up?”

“I just noticed that that TV show you were talking about was on tonight, and I wondered if you’d noticed?” Evan asked. “Are you at home? It starts in five minutes.”

JJ walked to her coffee table and flicked through her TV guide. “Oh, thanks, it is too. I’m just cooking some dinner.”

“Great. Well, I’ll let you watch it, then.” He hung up, leaving JJ looking at the phone with a bemused smile on her face.

She took her dinner to the living room and switched on the television – she honestly had been wanting to watch it – and smiled, thinking how sweet it was of Evan to have remembered her saying that. She was still smiling when she went to bed.

The next day brought more of the same. The unsub still had not stuck again, and the team were making slow progress. She could see that Evan’s uneasiness was growing, and the required psychiatrist visit seemed to chafe even worse than usual. He was throwing himself into his work with a dedication that seemed to warn off conversation, so JJ left him alone.

That night she was throwing together some bolognaise when the phone rang again. She didn’t jump, as she’d been half expecting it.

“Hey,” Prentiss said when she answered. “I was just picking up some shopping and I noticed that those big cans of olive oil are really cheap at the moment. I remembered you said you love to cook Italian food, so I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up a can.” JJ suppressed a laugh at his transparentness, having realized that his calls weren’t about TV shows or olive oil; he was worried about her, with a serial killer targeting young blonde law-enforcement officers, and was calling to make sure she had made it home safe. She thought it was sweet.

“Thanks, that would be great. I’m actually cooking some bolognaise right now,” she replied, letting him know that she was safe at home without him having to come up with an excuse to ask.

“Great. I’ll bring it in tomorrow. See you later,” he hung up, leaving JJ still laughing quietly at him.

The next day JJ was in Garcia’s office.

“Has Prentiss been ringing to check on you?” Penelope asked.

“You too, huh?” JJ responded with a laugh. “What excuses did he give you?”

“He wanted to know how to do something on his computer. As if he couldn’t have figured it out by himself.” Penelope joined in the laughter.

“He’s worried. I’m worried myself. I doubt it means anything good that this unsub has gone quiet. Indiana’s not that far away. I think it’s sweet that Evan rings to check on us,” JJ said.

“Sweet, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s a good friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Penelope queried.

“Yes, a friend,” JJ declared in the face of Penelope’s pointed look. “Shut up. I’m ignoring you. I’m leaving now. I’m not listening.” JJ walked out of the office.

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Penelope informed the closed door with a grin.

That night, JJ decided it was her turn to come up with a transparent excuse to call Evan and reassure him that she’d gotten home all right and was safe for the night.

“Hi, Evan, I hope I’m not bothering you,” she started, keeping up the pretence that she didn’t know what was going on.

“No, of course not.” She was impressed that he managed to hide his relief at her call.

“I’ve just gotten home, and I was thinking of reading that book series you lent me, only I couldn’t remember which one to start with. Which is the first one?” she asked, grinning to herself, knowing that Evan would ignore the fact that she could just look inside the covers.

“Well, ‘Burning Water’ was written first, but ‘Children of the Night’ is set first. So you could read either of those and it probably wouldn’t matter.” Evan played his part in the charade.

“Great, thanks. I’ll let you know what I think. See you tomorrow,” JJ hung up with a grin. She decided she might as well read the books she had used as a ploy, so she settled in happily, smiling to herself at Evan’s thoughtfulness.

By the next day, the killer still had not struck again, and had not shown up in any other states, and everyone on the team was getting extremely worried, dreading what he was building up to.

Prentiss had been gone a while, on his daily psychiatrist visit, and JJ realized she had been staring at one case file for so long that the words were blurring, and decided to drop in on Garcia.

“What was his excuse last night?” she asked.

“Apparently my instructions for fixing his computer worked. And he just had to call right then and there to thank me,” Penelope replied deadpan, before bursting out laughing. “Could he be any more obvious? What was his excuse for you?”

“I decided that his excuses were so pathetic I would save him the bother of coming up with one, and I called him,” JJ replied with a smile.

“Oh, _really_?” Penelope drawled.

“Oh, shut up. He’s just a friend.” By this time, JJ had practically managed to convince herself of this, and she ignored Penelope’s raised eyebrow. “Do you know where he is, by the way? He should be finished at the psych, and I need some quick input on a report before I send it off.”

“He said he was going to go to the gym, pretend the punching bag is the psychiatrist or some other macho thing.” Garcia grinned.

“Great. I’ll just pop down and see him so I can get this report finished.” JJ picked up the report in question and headed to the bureau gym.

There were a few people working out in the gym, and she spotted Evan in a corner at the pull-up bar. JJ watched for a second. He had just reached up to grab the bars and was hanging by his arms. His muscles bunched with effort and he slowly raised his chin above the bar and lowered himself back down. He was wearing a loose singlet, showing the definition in his arms and shoulders. His singlet was dark with sweat, and she could see a hint of underarm hair.

He was hot and sweaty, utterly masculine, and very, very sexy. JJ could feel her stomach drop out from under her as her body flushed with warmth and her face went bright red. She backed out of the room clutching her file.

Her face was still red when she got back to the BAU office. Penelope took one look at her and asked innocently; “So you found him, then?”

“I hate you,” JJ mumbled, walking to her office trying to hide her face. Penelope just laughed.

JJ’s face had finally returned to its normal color by the time Evan returned from the gym. He had showered and was looking very respectable in slacks and a jacket, but as the fabric stretched over his shoulders as he moved, JJ kept imagining those muscular shoulders knotting with effort and glistening with sweat.

Prentiss settled in to work, and it seemed that Garcia had taken pity on JJ because their conversations for the rest of the day were absent any innuendo. Despite their efforts and those of the team in the field, they seemed no closer to catching the unsub, and the tension in the air was palpable.

It was late, and everyone had just about reached the point where tiredness had overrun the usefulness of continuing to work, when Evan walked in to the computer tech office where JJ was chatting with Garcia.

“Hey, guys, it’s Friday night. I don’t know about you two, but I’m sure not getting anywhere, and I could use a break. This case is really getting to me. There’s that comedy on that you wanted to watch, Penelope. Would you guys like to hit the movies?”

“Sure,” replied JJ, thinking that it sounded safe enough – Penelope had said earlier that she was free and wanted to see it, and it was a comedy, not a ‘date’ movie.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Evan. I’m got plans with Kevin tonight,” Penelope replied, earning an outraged glare from JJ, who knew she had no such plans. _Don’t do this to me, Penelope_ , JJ pleaded with her eyes.

Penelope blithely ignored her. “You two go. It sounds fun; you’ll have to tell me all about it.”

From the look on Evan’s face, he hadn’t expected Penelope to beg off either, but he hid his surprise quickly. “Great,” he said, turning to JJ. “Is it worth taking two cars?”

JJ rallied. “No, probably not. Your place is practically on my way home. Why don’t I drop you home and pick you up in the morning?” she suggested, knowing that, as worried as he was about this case, Prentiss would be working through the weekend.

“Sounds good. Let me just get my things.” He walked out of the office and down to his desk in the bullpen.

“Garcia!” JJ turned on her friend.

Penelope was serious. “JJ, just give it a shot. I know it’s fun to tease you, but I think you really like him. Are you worried because he’s transgender, because he’s a co-worker, because you think he doesn’t like you, what?”

JJ slumped in a chair with a loud sigh. “How about ‘D, all of the above’?” she said ruefully. She thought about it. “Actually, I think what frightens me the most is _how much_ I like him. I feel completely out of control.”

Penelope pulled her into a hug. “Sweetie, I can understand that. But you know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?”

“I know,” JJ replied, and she did know – she trusted Prentiss as much as anyone she’d ever met. “But what if _I_ hurt _him_? He’s got to have issues with his body and other things; what if _I_ hurt _him_?” she asked.

“Sweetie, he’s a big boy. He can tell you where his boundaries are. He’s old enough and ugly enough to take care of himself,” Penelope replied with a grin.

“Shut up. He’s not ugly,” JJ said with the beginnings of a smile.

“See, you do think he’s cute,” Penelope teased gently. “Go give it a shot.”

“Thanks Pen.” JJ stood up. “I love you, you know?”

“Yes, I know,” Garcia replied airily. “Just remember, I want all the juicy details.”

JJ laughed and headed out to the bullpen. “Hey Evan, are you ready to go?”

“All set,” he said with a smile.

“Let’s go to the cinema near your place,” JJ suggested as they walked together to the car park.

“Sounds good. They have the best ice-cream shop near there; we could pick up some movie snacks.” JJ laughed; Evan was as excited as a little kid.

They got into JJ’s car, Evan relaxing into the passenger seat and closing his eyes with a sigh.

JJ smiled across at him: “Most men aren’t so comfortable giving up the driver’s seat,” she commented.

He opened his eyes. “I’m not most men,” he commented, giving her a conspiratorial wink.

She laughed, then turned more serious. “No, you’re not, but not because of that. It takes a special kind of man to put down his protectiveness and let a woman do her job. Thank you for that. Most men would be too arrogant.”

“Oh, I’m arrogant,” he replied. “I’m just so arrogant I don’t need to _act_ arrogant.”

She laughed and put her hand on his leg. “Well anyway, thank you.”

JJ put her hand back on the wheel, feeling a little warm. This felt like a date. _Was_ this a date? She wasn’t going to ask, partly worried that Evan would say no, but mostly afraid of what it would mean if he said yes.

They fell into a silence not exactly uncomfortable, but thrumming with tension.

“JJ...” Evan started uncertainly.

Suddenly the car slowed, the engine noise whining down. They rolled to a stop.

“Shit,” JJ cursed, trying the ignition and checking the gauges. “The tank’s empty.” She looked across with a touch of alarm. “Evan, I filled it up this morning.”

“JJ, lock the doors,” Evan said immediately, reaching into his bag where he’d put his gun and scanning the surroundings, which were dark and deserted.

JJ reached into the back seat to get her own gun out of her bag and then pulled out her phone.

She dialed Garcia.

“What’s up, my sweet?”

“Garcia, Prentiss and I have just broken down on a deserted stretch of road. I don’t think it’s an accident.”

“Location?” Garcia was instantly serious.

JJ was just relaying their location when Evan interrupted: “A car has just pulled up with its lights out.” JJ’s apprehension turned to fear.

Evan directed his gun’s torch at the car behind them. “The license plate’s been covered with mud. I think I can read “two, something, something, something, M, F.” The car’s a silver sedan, a Toyota, a Camry I think,” he reported.

“Got that,” Garcia acknowledged over the speaker phone.

“I can’t see anyone,” JJ said nervously.

Suddenly they heard a shot and the rear windscreen shattered.

“Down!”

Then came some odd ‘whumping’ noises and something landing in the car.

“Sleep gas!” Evan shouted. They couldn’t stay in the car, but if they got out, they’d be shot.

JJ fumbled around the car, trying to find the canisters, but she couldn’t see them, so she flipped the circulation on full and wound the windows down.

Evan got his own phone out: “Garcia,” he said into JJ’s speakerphone, starting to mumble, “I’ve got GPS tracking on my phone. I don’t know how long I can hold on to it, though,” he said, tucking his phone down his pants, the place least likely to be searched. “Shit, someone’s coming.” He grasped his gun woozily, and fired a wild shot.

JJ’s vision was graying. “Garcia, you’re on speaker phone; don’t say anything, just listen,” she slurred, just managing to hide the phone under a floor mat before everything went black and she passed out.

JJ came to in a panic, gasping for air, to find herself tied hands and feet to a chair in what looked like a basement, a man withdrawing a syringe from her arm, the shot bringing her to instant consciousness. Her panic intensified and she thrashed in the chair, finding her bonds were loose enough to leave good circulation; he did not seem to want to hurt her, yet, but admitted no hope of escape, and the chair was fixed to the floor.

“Jennifer Jareau,” he drawled. He was a little above average height, with sandy brown hair cut in a business-like style. “Didn’t you want to come and play with me? When I heard the BAU were invited to my party, I did some research. Your picture was very flattering. I noticed you straight away. I thought about what I could do with you,” he mused and started describing his fantasies, which JJ, her already vivid imagination primed by photos of his past victims, could picture far too well.

She could feel nausea rising, from fear, disgust or a reaction to the drugs, she didn’t know. His face, ordinary, perhaps even good-looking under other circumstances, seemed grotesque, twisted in a vicious leer.

“I was very disappointed to find that you’d decided to stay at home.” He was whispering, his mouth close to her face, and her stomach heaved in protest.

“So, as they say, if Mohamed won’t come to the mountain, Mohamed must be _brought_ to the mountain.”

He stepped back. “And how nice of you to bring me a friend!” he said with sick delight, his movement revealing what JJ had yet to see: Prentiss lying motionless on the floor, his hands bound wickedly tight behind him, his usually pale skin bloodless, making his dark hair stand out in stark relief. JJ lunged towards him in horror.

“Evan!” she choked out. The man laughed at her, stepping back to give Evan’s prone form a well-aimed kick.

Evan’s limp body didn’t twitch, only rolling bonelessly with the weight of the kick.

“Now, maybe you can clear up some confusion for me, Jennifer. Is this sack of meat” - kick - “ _Emily_ Prentiss, or” - kick - “ _Evan_ Prentiss?” the man asked, enjoying seeing JJ flinch with each kick to Evan’s body.

He picked up a long knife from a table near the wall. “Maybe I should find out for myself?” he mused. “Or maybe I should just kill him?” He approached Evan’s still form.

“No!” JJ gasped. “Please, I’ll do anything,” she started begging.

He paused, interested. “Really?” He approached her.

“Yes,” she said, and started repeating his obscene suggestions, embellishing with pornographic detail, tears pouring down her face, choking the words in her throat. He stepped closer and she could see he was interested.

This was no calculated ploy to buy time in hope of rescue, no deliberate decision. This was just a pure mindless bid to say anything, _do_ anything, to keep Evan safe for one more minute, one more _second_ , over-riding her horror at the filth spewing from her own lips.

The unsub had moved close to JJ, prompting her, fascinated by her desperate acquiescence. He listened for a long moment, letting JJ’s words wash over him.

“Why Jennifer, that sounds delightful, but you know,” he said, stepping away and kneeling next to Evan on the floor, “I think I’m just going to kill him, because you’re going to do those things _anyway_.”

Then everything happened at once: JJ screamed, the man moved in with his knife, and Evan’s leg whipped around, landing a solid kick on the man’s head. It seemed JJ had talked just long enough for Evan to regain consciousness.

The unsub fell on to Evan’s body and they rolled over the floor. It seemed a bitterly unfair fight: the unsub was bigger, he held a knife, and he had the use of his arms. But Evan had the element of surprise and, with his survival, and JJ’s, at stake, he seemed possessed of a berserk strength, augmenting his long years of martial-arts training.

It was ugly: the unsub was dazed from the kick to the head, and Evan was still groggy from sleep gas, and their movements were clumsy and uncoordinated as the man wielded the knife and Evan fought back with teeth, head-butts, knees; anything he could use. It seemed to last an eternity, each man struggling to get the upper hand. JJ screamed at every blow, every cut to Evan’s body.

Evan seemed oblivious to pain – he took a stab in the shoulder and wrenched his body away, ripping the knife out of the man’s hands.

He brought a knee round into the unsub’s face, smashing his nose, and managed to get the other leg around the man’s neck. Locking his knee under the man’s jaw, he heaved, as the man struggled and flailed, and then there was a hideous crack and the man lay still, slumped on top of Evan, who lay back limp and gulping for breath.

“Evan!?” JJ croaked, through a throat raw from wordless screaming.

Evan bucked and struggled, pushing the man off him, and then managed to get to his knees, shuffling awkwardly over to where JJ sat tied to the chair, blood oozing from gashes on his legs and seeping out from around the knife in his shoulder. “JJ, I didn’t realize you knew that kind of language,” he joked weakly.

JJ laughed, a hysterical laugh mixed with tears, as Evan knelt to her bonds, pulling at them with his teeth, slowly unpicking the knots. She realized she had strained so hard against them that her wrists were rubbed bloody.

Evan’s movements were becoming slower, less coordinated, and then he sagged to one side, passing out in an ungainly heap.

JJ panicked and struggled against the bonds. The ropes around one wrist gave way a little and she forced herself to calm down, not wanting to pull the knot tight again. Painstakingly she freed her hand and then awkwardly untied her other arm and then her feet.

“Evan?” she cried, falling to his side. He was still breathing, and she sobbed with relief. “Evan?” She tore off her shirt and used it to bandage his wounds, all the while repeating his name like a litany. She pushed herself through dizzying exhaustion to finish staunching most of the bleeding, before she collapsed, utterly spent, to lie against his good side, and consciousness slipped away from her.

 

 

 

 **Part 3.**

 

She woke up with a feeling of crushing fear pressing her down, stopping her breath, until her eyes focused and she saw Penelope sitting near her and a hospital room surrounding her. She caught a deep shuddering breath.

“JJ,” Penelope’s voice was soft, but trembling with emotion.

“Hey,” JJ rasped, coughing through a throat dry and raw. Suddenly the fear returned: “Evan?” she questioned, struggling with her bed covers.

“He’s okay, shh, sweetie, he’s okay,” Penelope held her until she calmed down. “He lost a lot of blood and he’s getting a transfusion, but he’s okay.” She gave JJ a sip of water.

“Can I see him?”

“Of course sweetie, they’re going to bring him straight here when they’re finished. Oh, Jayj, I was so worried. All I could do was sit there and listen and I couldn’t do anything to help…” she trailed off, tears in her eyes. She hugged JJ tighter.

“Well, you must have done something; we’re here, we’re safe…” JJ said, a question in her voice.

“We tracked Prentiss’ GPS signal to a house in West Virginia, owned by a Karl Fredericks, owner of a silver Camry that matched the license plate you gave. I got a SWAT team in and they stormed the place. Oh, JJ, they said there was so much blood and you were lying so still…” she hiccupped.

“The rest of the team are on their way. They’ll be here soon,” Penelope supplied.

JJ smiled. “Pen?” she questioned tentatively. “Can you make sure that the hospital…” she paused, searching for words; “that they treat Evan right? That they don’t treat him like a woman, or make a big deal of things that aren’t any of their business?”

“You betcha. And if they don’t, my man Morgan has decided that Evan is his little brother, and nobody treats his little brother wrong and gets away with it,” Penelope said with grin, looking glad to have something concrete to focus on.

“ _Little_ brother? Evan’s two years older than Derek,” JJ laughed.

“Well, big brother, then. Anyway, Derek’s decided that _he’s_ the only one allowed to talk smack about his brother.”

“Thanks, Pen,” JJ smiled, and they remained in silence, holding hands, each woman basking in the warm presence of her best friend, until JJ fell asleep.

When she woke up again, the fear was a little less crippling and was washed away completely by the sight of Evan lying in the bed next to her. His face was waxen behind livid bruises and cuts and she could see the white of a bandage round his shoulder peeking out from under the sheet. It was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen – Evan here, breathing, alive.

She sat up and took a long drink of water, then climbed stiffly out of bed and walked over to him. She stroked his face and his eyelids flickered but remained closed. She clambered awkwardly into the bed next to him, careful not to jog him, and spooned up to his uninjured side. She fell asleep again, a smile on her face and tears of joy trickling unnoticed down her face.

JJ went back to work as soon as they let her out of hospital the next day. She had no injuries beyond deep grazes on her wrists, but the doctor had told her to take a week off to recuperate from the shock. Despite this, she knew that if she stayed at home, her mind would only replay image after dreadful image, and she cherished the safety of being at work, surrounded by her colleagues, her friends. They couldn’t keep the nightmares away when she slept, but they could hold them off during the day.

She busied herself with administrative tasks, not yet able to face the case files and reports that lay in her office. Hotch and Garcia took over the slack between them.

Evan’s injuries were more severe and he was kept in the hospital. The knife had missed his lungs but had cut a major blood vessel, and he had lost a lot of blood. A series of transfusions brought his color back to normal and his strength began to return. When JJ wasn’t at work she was with him, but she seemed unable to talk about anything more than superficial matters, except when he admitted to her that he too woke up every night screaming or shaking or crying.

It was standard bureau policy that they both see a psychiatrist after their ordeal. JJ went and said the right things, completely failed to touch on how she really felt, and walked out of there with clearance after two visits. The psychiatrist visited Evan in hospital, and he too had only two sessions.

At last he was released from hospital and, to JJ’s complete lack of surprise, he too returned to work as soon as he was able.

Evan’s review of his fitness for active duty had obviously been postponed, but it was held on his first day back at work, in a closed session which had JJ and the rest of the team fuming. They sat outside awkwardly.

“I told Evan that if they don’t return him to active duty, I’ll tender my resignation,” JJ informed the rest of the team.

“Hell, they’ll have to take mine, too,” Morgan muttered angrily.

“And mine,” declared Garcia.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hotch said. “If they don’t return him to active duty, I’ll support him in a discrimination suit.”

“Everyone’s behind him on this,” Rossi added. “I don’t understand it, and I imagine I will still accidentally call him the wrong thing, but Prentiss is one of the best profilers I’ve ever worked with, and a good friend. I’ll support him however I can.”

Eyes turned to Reid, who said awkwardly: “I don’t understand it either. But she – he – is my friend.” He looked sadly at JJ, his feelings for her uncomfortably close to the surface. “He’s good for this team,” he added, and only JJ could see the other message in his eyes: _He’s good for **you**. _ She smiled gently, and Reid looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Everyone looked around as the door opened, and Evan came out. They looked at him in query until a wide smile flashed across his face, answering their question.

JJ flung herself into his arms, careful of his healing injuries, and when she let go, she was still standing so close they were touching. Morgan came up to him and punched him, very gently, on his good shoulder. Garcia gave him a huge hug. Hotch just said “Welcome back,” with a smile, and Rossi shook his hand. Reid stepped up last, his gaze intense, locking eyes with Evan, then slanting a significant glance at JJ. Evan nodded minutely, and then Reid patted him awkwardly on the shoulder and said “Congratulations.”

Garcia broke up the moment before it became too noticeable: “All right! Who’s in for drinks?”

Evan grinned. “I don’t think I’m up for going out right now,” he said, and indeed he was looking a little pale. “And I’m not supposed to drink for another week. But I _guess_ I could be persuaded to partake of a lemonade or something, if we stay in the office.”

“You leave it to me, sugar plums,” Penelope said, bustling off to prepare for a low-key party.

“That’s my girl,” Morgan said, following her, everyone else trailing after.

Throughout the celebration, JJ forced herself not to monopolize Evan. She knew the others would want to see how he was doing, and that he would want to catch up with them. Reid even managed to unbend a little around Evan, but he still left early. Hotch and Rossi also left early as was usual. Morgan left soon after with Garcia, which JJ suspected was at the other woman’s urging, leaving JJ alone with Evan in the quiet office, the tension obvious between them.

She walked over to him. “Congratulations,” she said. “It really is good to have you back on active duty. And I’m very glad I didn’t have to threaten to quit – they might have taken me up on it.” Ignoring, for the moment, the undercurrents they both felt.

Evan laughed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to; I wouldn’t have held you to it.”

“I would have held myself to it,” JJ replied seriously.

“You know, it’s funny,” he said, his tone of voice suggesting that it was anything but. “I get captured, stabbed and nearly killed, and all they require is two psychiatrist visits. I decide to start living my real life and it’s a psych visit every day for a fortnight and a full board review.” He sounded resigned, as if he was so used to bureaucratic prejudice that it had lost the power to hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” JJ said, not knowing how to help.

“The scars on the inside from Fredericks are so much bigger, even though the ones on the outside are smaller. My surgery scars are five times as big, but that was one of the best things I’ve ever done.”

JJ stepped closer, the pressure building. “Can I see?” she asked softly, knowing it was inappropriate, knowing she was crossing a line, knowing and not caring.

Evan looked startled for a second, but then his eyes caught hers. “You didn’t see it in the hospital, did you?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head mutely. He began unbuttoning his shirt, still holding her gaze. She noticed his fingers were trembling, but he kept going, until his shirt was undone and he slipped it from his shoulders.

The gash on this shoulder was healed closed, but the skin was still angry and puckered. She reached out a shaking hand to touch it, thinking how close it had been. _If it had been a few inches lower…_ she shivered.

His skin was soft, and she trailed her hand lower. There were two long horizontal scars on his chest, and she could see the fear in his eyes as she stroked her fingers over them. They were pink but well-healed, and they outlined his toned pectoral muscles. She flushed with warmth, and tried to ease his fear with the look in her eyes, the reverence of her touch.

“JJ…” he began, but trailed off.

She looked at him in query, then stroked lower, adding her other hand, tracing his firm stomach muscles and watching her fingers in fascination. Evan’s chest was smooth, but there was a downy trail of hair running from his navel and under the belt of his slacks. She ran her fingers over it, her breath quickening, not quite daring to dip her fingers beneath the barrier of the belt.

She heard a soft gasp and looked up to see his mouth slightly open, his eyes dark as he looked at her with an expression so intense it left her breathless.

“JJ…” he said again.

“Yes,” she replied, in response to her name or in acknowledgement of her desire, she didn’t know, but she closed the distance between them to touch her lips against his, sensing that this move was hers to make.

The touch seemed to release something in him, some wild, pent-up energy, and his arms wrapped around her, stroking in constant movement along her back or reaching up to stroke her face, cup her shoulder blades or circle her waist, yet even with that release, his touch was gentle.

She wrapped her own arms around his bare torso, feeling the muscles in his back rippling with tension under skin dry and burning hot.

His hand slipped under her shirt hem, but didn’t move further, his arms locked rigid as he held himself back. She stopped the kiss only long enough to draw her shirt over her head then pressed herself back into him, skin against skin, clutching at his back as his hands rose to her ribcage.

 _Oh God_ , she thought, as he flinched slightly when her hand brushed his shoulder. _He’s holding himself back for me, but **I** need to hold myself back for **him**_. But then his hot mouth captured her neck and she couldn’t, she couldn’t. Couldn’t think, could only hold on to him, her head thrown back as he kissed her.

Suddenly Evan lifted his head. “Wait, wait, not here, not here,” he said, his voice deep, getting himself under control. “Please, let me take you home. Let me do this right,” he entreated.

JJ’s eyes focused on him. “Please. Please take me home, Evan.”

They picked up their things, putting their shirts back on, clumsy in their rush, and got into Evan’s car. They were silent as Evan drove, so intent on each other that they didn’t even think about what had happened the last time they had traveled this route together.

JJ’s hand was on his thigh, stroking gently, until he said “JJ, you’re going to have to move your hand, otherwise I’m going to crash the car.” The smile and the moment of levity broke some of the tension, but did nothing to diminish their connection.

They arrived at Evan’s building and he parked ridiculously badly, then JJ grabbed his hand and rushed him upstairs, remembering the way from the few times she’d visited.

As soon as the front door was shut and locked behind them, she leant back against it and pulled him onto her, kissing him, hard, struggling to get his shirt off, fumbling at his pants. He kissed back desperately, pulling at her clothes in turn, before he paused with a gasp.

“JJ, I’m sorry, I wanted to do this properly. I wanted to be slow and romantic for you,” he said unsurely.

“I don’t want to take it slow. I want you now, Evan,” she gasped, taking his face in her hands and kissing him long and deep, washing away his hesitance until he was caught up with her in mutual urgency.

His hands pulled her skirt above her hips and then she pushed her panties down her legs, stepping out of them. “Evan, I want you,” she said again, needing him to have no uncertainty, reaching for his belt.

“Wait. Wait a second,” he panted, gasping between each word, moving her hands away for a moment, kissing her to reassure her. He reached past his waistband, his hands busy for a moment, his kisses slowing as he concentrated. He looked at her a little self-consciously as his hands moved to reveal his erection.

JJ had wondered, in inappropriate moments, whether he packed anything and what it would be like. It was hard and pale pink, and when she touched it, it felt a lot like skin. He gasped when she wrapped her hand round it and stroked it, from sensation or from seeing her acceptance of this aspect of his body, she wasn’t sure.

“Evan, please,” she urged, needing him. She lifted one leg around his waist, and as he pushed his hips forward she guided him in, groaning as he filled her.

He paused with a look of wonder on his face.

“Please, I don’t want it slow,” she begged, using her leg around his waist to pull him even closer, and he obliged her, tilting his hips into her, pushing her into the door, his thighs supporting her.

She thought briefly of his healing injuries, but they didn’t seem to be bothering _him_ as he rocked against her so urgently, so she forget them, and then any thought became impossible.

She lifted her other leg and wrapped it around him as he supported her, her whole weight pushing her down onto him, her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, her forehead pressed against his as she moaned with sensation.

As Evan pushed into her, she whispered to him, telling him how good he felt inside of her, how hard and big he was, sensing he needed to hear her say those things.

She was close, so close, and when he worked his hand between their bodies and began to rub, a wash of molten ecstasy filled her groin. Her breath caught silently in her throat, and then rushed out of her with a resonant groan as the sensation flooded her body.

Evan’s hips rocked against her a few more times, sending aftershocks though her, and then he was still. He stepped away from the door, cradling her body in his arms as she collapsed against him languidly.

He walked slowly backwards, carrying her through the apartment, and then pushed a door open with his back. He laid her down gently, so gently, on his bed, and held himself over her, watching her with a look of awed amazement.

She could feel his muscles rigid and trembling with his own unreleased tension, and she propped herself up on one arm. “I want to make you feel good, Evan,” she said, pushing him down on the bed.

She started taking the rest of her clothes off, loving the feel of his eyes fixed on her body as it was revealed to him inch by inch. Then she reached for him, undoing his boots and pulling them off with his socks. He tried to help, but she stopped him with a gentle hand. She undid the last buttons on his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders.

“I want to make you feel good,” she said again, reaching for his slacks uncertainly. “But I’m not sure how to do that. Is it okay if I take these off?” He nodded mutely, his eyes betraying his nervousness. She slipped his pants down his legs and looked at him. His hips were perhaps a little wide, his waist a little narrow, but she could see nothing feminine in him. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen, and she told him so with eyes and words and touch, and she could see his nervousness abating.

She reached for his briefs and looked a question at him, then pulled them down at his nod. His cock was held against him with narrow black straps and she touched it, stroking it, trying to transmit the sensation to his body. “Tell me what to do?” she whispered.

“I usually - ” he broke off and reached into a drawer by his bed, grabbing a small bullet vibe. He turned it on and self-consciously reached down and tucked it behind the straps, against his body.

JJ lay down next to him, gently pushed his hands away and wrapped her own hand around his cock, stroking him, running her hands over him, playing with him, moving so that her body rubbed against his and the motions of her hand were transmitted to him. He instantly began to groan, his voice a deep growl. “Oh, JJ. Oh, JJ,” he repeated, seeming to have no other words.

“Oh God, Evan,” she gasped, looking deep into his eyes as she touched him, telling him how good he felt in her hand, how handsome he was. His hips were rocking against her hand as she stroked, his muscles flexing with need. His eyes were black with desire and his eyelids kept flickering, but he kept them open, kept looking at her, not looking away even as his orgasm washed over him and he fell limp against the mattress.

Then, with a soft cry, he rolled into JJ, burying his face against her chest. His arms wrapped around her, his body locked rigidly in place, and JJ was startled to feel violent tremors wracking his frame.

JJ just held him, stroking his hair, wiping away the tears running silently down his face, and whispering "I'm here, my love, I'm here," over and over, not knowing what else to say, not understanding.

Evan held his body locked immobile around hers with all his strength, yet even lost in emotion, that strength was held in check and he cradled her as gently as if the slightest pressure would break her, and his tenderness warmed her beyond her ability to describe it.

Slowly he unbent, his muscles loosening. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“My love, you have nothing to be sorry for.” She held him tighter. “ _I’m_ sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?” she asked, suddenly desperately uncertain.

“No, baby, no, you were perfect,” he rushed to reassure her. “It’s just…” he broke off nervously. “I’ve never… as Evan… this was my first time.”

“Oh, Evan,” she sighed, stroking his face, honored beyond belief.

“And it was perfect; it was with _you_ ,” he marveled, silently telling her that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

JJ felt loved in a way she never had before, and it was her turn for tears as he held her, worship in his eyes.

“For me, this is… I haven’t been with anybody since I met you,” JJ made her own admission. “I haven’t wanted to. I think… I think I’ve been waiting all these years, for Emily to become Evan.”

He looked thunderstruck. She pulled him to her, pressing her body against his along her full length, kissing him deeply. He rolled over on top of her, returning her kiss, and soon their need rose again and two slipped into one, desperately seeking, and finally finding, that perfect essence of closeness.

And when, at last, they slept, wrapped together, they found the nightmares were gone.

 


End file.
